


Un-Kingly

by becausenobreeches (crucibulis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucibulis/pseuds/becausenobreeches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tumblr request. King Alistair seeks out some companionship while in Kirkwall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un-Kingly

Turned out there were some things that were true everywhere, Alistair thought. There were places that men could go to find anonymous companionship, in certain dark corners of any city if one only knew where to look. And in Kirkwall, he was even less likely to be recognized, even under his very mysterious-looking hooded cloak.

He singled out a certain young man based really on only one thing: the way he carried himself. He stood there against the wall with the same soldierly poise that reminded Alistair of the Templars, and that put him somewhat at ease. Perhaps not a Templar, but a fellow warrior nonetheless. That was as good a reason to trust a man as any other, he supposed.

Alistair approached the man, and they exchanged nothing more than a few looks there in the shadows before the stranger took a hold of his arm and led him through the streets, into a seedy looking tavern... and after a short conversation with the bartender which Alistair didn’t quite hear, to a room on the upper level, which was probably fortunate to have a bed.

He wasn’t interested in small talk so he didn’t even turn around to look at the man, just stood next to the bed, threw off his cloak, and began to unlace his trousers so he could pull them off his ass. The stranger slid his fingers under Alistair’s shirt, pulling it up and then off of him when Alistair complied and lifted his arms. Bent over the bed, he listened as some of the stranger’s clothing hit the floor and then those hands were back on him, pulling his cheeks apart to get a better view.

“I’m ready,” Alistair whispered, and Maker he was so ready, cock heavy with arousal and hanging down between his legs. The hands stilled and then pulled away, leaving Alistair there with his thoughts. He was about to get fucked by a stranger; he didn’t even know what the man _looked_ like, and he was so hard thinking about it that he was already dripping onto the poor, unfortunate bed.

A few more sounds, and then one hand returned, as the other man pressed a slick cock against Alistair’s hole. He hung his head down and relaxed into the pressure, unable to stifle a moan as the stranger’s girth stretched him fuller than he’d ever felt before. It felt so good it made Alistair want to pray, but instead he just bit his lip and welcomed the other man’s cock into his body inch by inch.

The stranger was gentle at first, giving him time to take all of him in with the slightest of affectionate touches to his back. Alistair was glad his shirt was off as he was sweating already, the pleasure from being filled igniting a deep red blush that traveled all the way from his stomach to his ears. Panting heavily, he shook his head, signalling that he was ready, and the stranger began taking him in earnest.

If Alistair hadn’t known the man was a warrior from his posture, he would certainly know it from the way he fucked. Strong calloused hands holding Alistair down as he fucked him, each stroke using the full, disciplined weight of his strength. Alistair pushed into each thrust, encouraging the man to fuck him harder, laying his head on his arms on the bed and angling his ass up until he found that spot inside him that made him want to scream in a very un-kingly way. But here, he could get away with it, and his partner startled a bit, but then took the hint and drove into Alistair until the pleasure and the delicious stretch of it was making him sob.

“Maker’s breath,” the stranger moaned, and Alistair startled a little himself, tensing at an accent that sounded very… Fereldan. And almost familiar, too, Alistair thought, narrowing his eyes as he tried to place it. Although perhaps he was just homesick.

“Sorry. I won’t talk,” the man rasped, seemingly sensing his discomfort, and just went back to fucking him senseless. Alistair was close, despite the interruption, and stroked himself furiously, grunting as each thrust brought him closer to the edge. The stranger made it there before him, but only barely, and as he felt the man fill him up with his seed, he lost it, nearly collapsing on the bed as he tensed and came hard, spilling onto the blanket beneath him as he felt his muscles milk the last of the stranger’s orgasm out of him.

After taking a long moment to recover, the man pulled out and the two of them sat down onto the bed, allowing Alistair to get his first good look at the man’s face. He was about Alistair’s age, and had blond curly hair, with a goatee not unlike his own. Very… _Fereldan_. The stranger regarded him for a moment, still catching his breath, when suddenly his eyes went wide and he jumped about a foot backwards, sitting further away from Alistair on the bed.

“Your Majesty?!” the man yelped.

Alistair looked back at him with frantic eyes. “Noooo? _I’m_ not a Majesty,” he obviously lied, cutting his eyes over to the door.

“No, I know it’s you, King Alistair. We’ve met before,” the man said between pants, rubbing his neck. “I don’t suppose you would remember. Perhaps it’s better if you didn’t,” he muttered to himself.

Alistair just stared at him, wondering if the man was going to refresh his memory or not. The stranger looked down at the ground, blushing as he made eye contact for the most fleeting of moments before looking away. “My name’s Cullen. I’m a Templar. I was stationed at the Circle in Ferelden during the Blight.”

“Oh,” Alistair frowned, the memories of that place eclipsing any patting himself on the back he would have done for correctly guessing the man’s occupation. He frowned even more so when a particular memory occurred to him. _“Wait…_ you weren’t the one we found at the top of the tower, were you?”

Cullen nodded solemnly. “Yes. That was me.”

Alistair continued to stare, unsure of what to say. “Well, how… how are you doing _these_ days?” he tried.

“Not so great,” Cullen sighed, voice cracking like the admission had broken something inside him, something that had been threatening to break for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> http://becausenobreeches.tumblr.com/


End file.
